Training from a Quiet Spot

Today I could hear the horse talking to me. Not talking that way, just I stopped my busy mind and just felt the horse. Looked at the world slightly lower and quieter, from big brown eyes. I saw the traffic on our street as we walked up to the park. I saw that yesterday when I was mad and thinking like a human, I didn't see that yesterday when we went up to the park he was a 7 year old baby horse who hasn't been out in awhile and was excited to look at everything. He was excited to see other horses. He wasn't paying that much attention to me and our work, until I reminded him hey. We're here to do something. Then he settled in, he did what I needed. The quieter I got in my own self, the more basic and quiet in my cues, the more he settled in. Today he had had his runabout yesterday and his getting used to being out again in the world. Today I got on and partner kept coming up in my mind. Today I bridled him slowly. I thought about how it felt to be saddled, how it felt to be treated by human hands, how a horse wants to be with the calmest, strongest leader. So they can relax. They aren't so different than us. So today I watched my horse through my legs when I rode, and I stacked up my body like building blocks so I wouldn't cave in at the top, like I do when I get scared. I rode upright. I let him move forward. I let him ride next to other horses because I was tuned in to his mood and saw that he wasn't going to get playful and forget I was up there and have a nice romp. I kept reminding him I was up there by changing speed and direction, giving him things to do, it's not that different from teaching a class of 3rd graders. Or raising kids. You do actually have to work a little bit. But instead of thinking of it like THIS HAS TO BE THIS WAY, I just used my legs as walls, and let him lean the right way by asking him and allowing him to move, softening the wall on one side means you are welcome to go over here. It will be nice over here, I promise. So then Dewey loves to work. Also he is long legged and slightly wobbly to the right, his weak cantering side, but he worked on that side for me and I held him up with my inside leg, and together, we worked together to make our ride interesting, varied, fun, challenging. Out there in the world. Instead of trying to yell it all, or contain it all, I let it crash over me in a wave, and let the water trickle back out and we were still standing there working together. It helps to know your horse. I guess when things seem frustrating I just want to get rid of him but maybe knowing your horse is actually a really good thing. He's not always in the mood, and I'm not always in the brave mood, but today it was just crisp out, and morning and I didn't have any other responsibilities, and things have been busy and hard lately and this morning just popped out and we were working together under the big sky as a team. Both of us listening. Being able to give. We gave whatever we could to make it work, and then we're both happy at the end. I should get off my high horse and do this in other areas of life. It's such a powerful thing, to give everything you have, and first listen, to yourself and to the horse. (or the human) The horse will tell you the truth. But first you have to be so quiet, and shut off that rational brain. The brain is too noisy and most of it means nothing. You can feel what means something. With riding I get to feel from different rarely used muscles in my whole body. It's a pretty miraculous thing. Dewey has done so many things growing up that have made me terrified of him and his strength and power. But maybe he's teaching me something. Break things down into small pieces. Enjoy the path, and let him graze. Let him be a horse, but let him work for me. When we free up that bond by practice, small and simple, and listening with just the middle of my self- that is interesting. Seeing where it takes us.